“You’re going to kick their ass,” Adams said, nodding. “And take the medal or crown or whatever.”
“And not only is that their prize,” Mike said. “But you know how I fight.”
“You’d put them in the hospital,” Adams replied.
“So I don’t want to,” Mike said. “I told them I’d demonstrate with you.”
“What, you want to get your ass kicked?” Adams asked, grinning.
“You’re out of shape and getting old, fuckwad,” Mike replied. “I’d put you in the hospital. But you I can lose for a while; the Keldara start training on Monday.”
“I’d put you in the hospital,” Adams said. “You’ve been out of the teams too long to be any good anymore.”
“Bets?” Mike asked. “The point is, I probably wouldn’t put you in the hospital or vice versa. But I don’t want to fight a damned Keldara. He doesn’t know how to block for shit.”
“There’s that,” Adams admitted.
“Here they come,” Mike said as the huddle among the elders broke up.
“The Kildar has said that he does not want to take the title of Ondah,” Father Kulcyanov said, facing the gathered groups. “The Ondah is a title for the Keldara. But to show that he is not fearful of the test of man, he has agreed to fight the winner. Not for the title, but simply for honor. As he has said, the Kildar should be the best. But the Ondah is a title for the Keldara.”
“Thank you for this ruling,” Mike said, waving at the elders. “Let’s continue.”
Two circles had been marked out on the ground in front of the Keldara houses. The competition was double elimination, with the losers facing losers and the winners facing winners until one person was victorious. The rules were rather basic, no kneeing of the balls and no gouging. Anything else, up to and including biting, seemed to be allowed. A fall was counted as any point other than the feet or hands on the ground, best three falls won. Anyone stepping out of the circle stopped the competition and twice out of the circle counted for a fall.
The Keldara were brawlers. In general, the two contestants would close, punch for a bit and then get into a grapple. They used backing and hip throws in the main. Oleg had a tendency to just pick up his opponent and toss him down on his back. Vil and Oleg were the last two fighters after about an hour of competition. Oleg got a good hold on Vil a couple of times and tossed him but the lighter Keldara was quick and landed on feet and hands. Oleg finally got him down three times, one on a hip throw and the other two by literally throwing him to the ground so hard it overcame Vil’s ability to keep himself up.
“Oleg is the winner of the test of man,” Father Kulcyanov said. “Oleg is the Ondah. But before he is crowned, he must face the Kildar.”
“Crap,” Mike said, stepping in the ring. “Oleg, you up for this?”
“I am well, Kildar,” the Keldara said, crouching with hands half closed and his feet spread in what Mike would call a cat stance. He had a bleeding lip from a previous blow and a shiner forming on his eye. And his nose was bleeding. And he still had a slight limp from the fire. But he seemed pumped rather than battered. The guy just liked to fight.
“Well, try not to hurt me too much and I’ll try not to hurt you too much,” Mike said, standing on the balls of his feet in a horse stance. “Let’s get this over with.”
Oleg charged the Kildar and Mike let him come. The Keldara threw a strong roundhouse, which Mike blocked and then leaned into, grabbing him by one wrist and his shirt and continuing the rush over his outstretched leg. Instead of putting him facedown, though, Mike pulled back hard on the wrist, pressing down into the throw so the Keldara landed, hard, on his back. At the last minute he caught himself as he was about to break the arm across his leg. It was hard not to; it was a conditioned response, but he managed it. Oleg hit the ground, hard.
“Point to the Kildar,” Father Kulcyanov said.
“Someday I’ll show you what just happened,” Mike said, helping the winded Keldara to his feet. “And how to fall.”
Oleg waved his hands for a moment to get his breath and then got into his crouch again, closing much more slowly. He jabbed at Mike a time or two, which Mike easily blocked, and then closed.
Mike reacted automatically with a forekick to the Keldara’s abdomen, following it up with a round kick that snapped Oleg’s head to the side in a spray of blood and then a full flying kick to the back of the head that put the Kulcyanov on his face.
“Jesus,” he said, darting forward. “Oleg, you okay?”
“I have never been beaten, Kildar,” the Keldara said, getting up to his knees and hands and shaking his head as blood poured from his mouth. “But I am now. You hit worse than a bull. Where did you learn to kick like that?”
“I’m a damned SEAL instructor,” Mike said, helping Oleg to his feet. “SEAL hand to hand isn’t about fighting for fun. It’s about doing so much damage to the other guy, he can’t fight anymore. I was pulling my blows and not following through; you should be in the hospital with broken bones now. Or dead.”
“And we will be taught this?” Oleg asked, wiping at his mouth.
“As much as I can,” Mike said.
“Then next year, Kildar,” the Keldara said, “I will purely kick your ass, as the instructors say.” He spit out a mouthful of blood and worked his tongue in his mouth. It was obvious there were some loose teeth.
“Look forward to it,” Mike said, laughing.
“I don’t feel right taking the position of Ondah,” Oleg admitted as the Keldara pressed forward. “You are the better.”
“I’m the Kildar,” Mike said. “I should be better.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sun was setting by the time the last test was complete and the Keldara gathered in the yard of the houses, setting out tables and bringing out an evening feast. Mike had been smelling the steer roasting all afternoon and he was looking forward to the dinner.
The men and women sat separately, with the women doing the serving. The whole steer was brought into the space among the tables and set on a separate table to be carved. It had been roasted, whole, in a pit and looked and smelled wonderful.
The elders handled the carving with the help of the Burakan, Mike being excepted. The senior women, Anastasia being included in them as the de facto “woman of the Kildar” were actually served first with choice cuts from the ribs. The butt and withers were served to the younger men and women, the men getting the choicer cuts, the rest of the rib portion was served to the Burakan and the trainers. Last the elders, Mike and the senior trainers were served from the tenderloin. Each of the Burakan, including Mike, had their designated axes in front of them.
Mike was actually served dead last, which he found odd, but it was a huge hunk of the center of the tenderloin. There were potatoes and huge loaves of heavy bread as well as boiled cabbage and choice spring greens gathered from the woods. To drink there was the inevitable Keldara beer in pitchers. Mike was thirsty but he went light on the beer.
“You need to introduce broccoli,” Nielson said as he dug into his own filet. “It grows fast and it’s packed with vitamins.”
“I’ll talk to Genadi about it,” Mike said, looking around for the farm manager. He was with the younger men, just below the married males in pecking order.
When most of the diners were finished, Father Kulcyanov stood up and raised his hands for silence.
“The tests of spring are complete,” he said. “The Ondah has been chosen, Oleg of the Family of Kulcyanov. He is crowned the King of Spring,” the elder said, simply.